Chapter 18

 

Back at Tara, I tucked Evelyn into bed for a long nap and got on the phone to Amy Delozier. Once again, I had an idea. Chief Cokie would probably have the same idea, but I figured that two heads were better than one.

It looked like it was Nancy Drew time.

 

“It’s awful about Abbott,” Amy said.

It was so sweet the way she said it. It made me want to pretend I’d liked him more than I did, but I couldn’t go that far.

“Will you meet me later for a drink?” I asked.

“You bet,” she said, with real enthusiasm. “When and where?”

“How about around ten, at Jimmy’s Place?”

“Jimmy’s Place? The topless bar?”

“Trust me.”

 

Maybe it wasn’t fair to drag a nice girl like Amy Delozier into a scum pit like Jimmy’s Place, but I was a nice girl, too, and if I was going, I was taking somebody with me. I’d already ruled out bringing Evelyn along or anyone even remotely related to me. That pretty much left Amy as bachelorette number one. Besides, maybe we’d run into her brother, Rick Rod, and we could all share a table dance.

 I figured it was possible that a little girl talk with Abbott’s dancer girlfriend, Charlene, might go a long way in turning up something of interest and I didn’t have the confidence or the patience to wait for Fogerty’s finest to find the killer. They were probably still arguing about who really whacked Nicole Simpson.

 

I had a few hours to kill before show time at Jimmy’s Place so I gave Ted a call at the restaurant. I wanted to share my misery with someone.

“Little Pigeon.” I didn’t recognize the woman’s voice. It’s always a disconcerting experience to call your own place of business and get a stranger on the other end of the line.

“May I speak with Ted, please?”

 

It was a labor-intensive, time-consuming phone handoff. Finally, Ted came on the line. “Ted here.”

“Who answered the phone?”

“Oh,” he said, somewhat hesitantly, “as you might recall, we’re a little short-handed so Katrina’s helping out.”

“Katrina? As in Ski Lodge Cocktail Lounge Katrina?”

“The very one.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

Katrina could’ve been Lonnie Anderson’s not very bright little sister. Sometimes you just can’t take the cocktail lounge out of the girl.

“May I remind you,” Ted said with a pompous lilt, “that if you were here, we wouldn’t need Katrina.”

“If I were dead, we wouldn’t need Katrina.”

He sighed rather dramatically. “All right.”

 

I wasn’t going to rub it in or push my luck, so I changed the subject.

“There’s a new twist on the home front,” I said.

“I just love a good twist.”

“My cousin Abbott’s been murdered.”

“Good God. Did you kill him?”

“Very funny. Get this. He was not only murdered, but someone cut off his wiener and stuffed him in a garbage bag.”

“Are you sure you didn’t do it?”

 

I brought Ted up to date, filling him in on the other murder and all of the ugly details right up to Abbott’s recent amorous activity with the topless dancer. This, of course, caught Ted’s attention.

“Whoa,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

“Well, somebody wasn’t. Abbott ended up a eunuch in a trash bag.”

“You already told me that part.”

“Just trying to move you back onto the playing field.”

“I’m on the fucking playing field,” Ted said, irritably.

 

He agreed that Larry White’s interest in Fogerty and a couple of hairy murders had all happened in a pretty cozy time frame.

“Maybe I’ll know more after tonight,” I said. “I’m meeting a date at Jimmy’s Place.”

“The topless joint? Who’s the lucky girl, Ellie May Clampett?”

“You’ve got your Beverly Hillbillies mixed up. Jethro was the lesbian.”

“Ah.”

“Her name’s Amy. We go way back. Unfortunately, she’s married to a dentist.”

“You really are sick, you know that?”

“Love you too, Ted.”

He hung up on me.

 

It was still a little too early for topless dancing, so I rang Nancy’s office. I was really racking up the long distance calls. Fortunately, I’d had the sense to add Ted and Nancy to Evelyn’s MCI Friends and Family phone list. Every little bit helps.

As I expected, Shirley picked up.

“Sorry,” she said. “They’re taping the goat segment.”

“Excuse me, the what?”

“Let’s see,” Shirley said, “at present there are three goat farmers and exactly twelve goats in the studio with Nancy.”

“Should I even ask why?”

“Doing a special on goat cheese this week.”

“I hate goat cheese.” I also hated the idea that Nancy was schmoozing with a bunch of goat farmers when she could be schmoozing with me.

 “Listen, gal,” Shirley said, “get your butt back here. Since you’ve been gone, Nancy’s been a real bear.”

“Really misses me, huh?”

It was kind of fun having this intimate chitty chatter with Shirley. Or maybe I was completely losing sight of the meaning of fun.

“Let’s put it this way,” Shirley said. “Nancy’s really missing somethin’, and it ain’t goat cheese.”

Shirley certainly had a way of putting everything in perspective. I guess that’s why Nancy kept her around.

“Will you just tell her that I called?”